


What a Child Needs

by Capucine



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Gen, Semi-Historical, Soviet Union Breakup
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-21
Updated: 2015-05-21
Packaged: 2018-03-31 12:56:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3978877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Capucine/pseuds/Capucine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Moldova has come to America for a visit with Romania, not too long after the breakup of the Soviet Union. When Romania gives him money and sends him into a kids' store, he is dazzled by all the toys. But a dilemma quickly presents itself, and Moldova is left with a tough choice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What a Child Needs

Moldova ran into the store, clutching the bills handed him by his brother, with the pronouncement ‘Go crazy, little guy.’

Everything looked great, from the little plastic musical instruments to the bouncy balls to the building blocks. Even the dolls had their appeal, varying from lacy little outfits to Malibu Barbies. Moldova put his fingers on the Ballerina Barbie, a pretty doll with sparkly eyeliner and a frilly pink tutu.

Then he ran on, heart racing. There was a basketball! He didn’t even have one of those! He felt the tread and smelled the rubbery scent of a new ball, giddy with the thought that he had this money and he could buy whatever he wanted.

There were plastic sacks of little bouncy balls too; they were all patterned with rainbow colors, some in squares and swirls and stripes. There were sparkly blue recorders, and a fat puppy plush that smelled like cookies and had lazy-looking eyes. There was a collection of bendable plastic toys, some that looked like pigs and smiley-faced figures and silly clowns.

That was when he found it. He stared in awe at the item, sure this was exactly what he wanted. 

It was a plush sock monkey. It was soft in his hands, and had black button eyes and a red felt mouth. The arms looked good for chewing when he got nervous or upset, and the hat came on and off. He held it in his hands, and, satisfied with the beautiful object, tucked it under his arm and started to head for the cash register.

That was when he froze. Out of the corner of his eye, he’d spotted it: a pack of fresh, new underwear. He could practically feel the draft leaking in through his holey underwear, the way the elastic had long lost its stretch.

He clutched the sock monkey tightly. It smelled new. It smelled like love and cuddles.

But what he needed was the underwear.

He could feel tears coming to his eyes at the dilemma. The monkey was so soft, and it was the nicest toy he felt like he would ever own, and he would not get this chance again, he was sure. It was always hand me downs, when he was lucky enough to get toys.

Yes, now he was his own new country. Yes, supposedly things would get better. He had not gotten toys, legitimate, non-propaganda toys, in decades.

He began to suck on his fingers, a habit he had gone back to when distressed. He didn’t want to get the toy slimy, because then he would have no choice but to buy it. And that was a tempting thought. 

But again. He needed underwear. Badly. And this plastic-covered set of folded underwear was probably soft enough, and probably would last a while. He wouldn’t have to worry so much about someone seeing it. He wouldn’t have to worry about when his current three pairs would wear out completely.

His brother had brought him to America to see what freedom was. He had set him free in a kids’ store with a bit of money (more money than Moldova scraped together in a month).

Life had taught him to do the responsible thing.

Heavy-hearted, he turned around and trekked back to the stuffed-toy aisle. He hugged the monkey tightly, and then placed it back gently.

He walked back to the underwear, and took it off its hook. Then he headed to the cash register, and paid for the underwear.

It really was very nice underwear. It was blue, red, and white. He didn’t like the red so much, sort of a thing that reminded him of older, harder days, but he really liked the blue. 

It still wasn’t the same as the sock monkey.

He walked out of the store, and there he saw Romania grinning.

“So, what’d you get? I bet you got one of those Star Wars toy guns, didn’t you?” Romania pinched his cheeks, and then reached into the plastic bag. His grin instantly disappeared, as he saw the underwear. “Mol, what’s with the underwear?”

Moldova fought back tears. “It’s what I need.”

Romania stared at him a moment. He looked slowly at the underwear, and slowly back at Moldova. Then he gently put the underwear back in the bag, and took Moldova’s hand. “Hey,” he said, “How about we go back in and get you a toy too, okay?”

Moldova’s eyes widened in horror. Romania was better off than him, but by no means was he rich. “No! No, big brother, it costs too much!”

But Romania lifted him, hefting him onto his hip. “Big bro Romania can afford it. And besides, Mol, and here’s something you don’t want to forget: you’re worth it.”

“But it costs so much money,” Moldova started to sob. He buried his face into Romania’s shoulder, sure he was stealing the food right out of Romania’s mouth.

Romania rubbed his back as he walked back into the store. “It’s my choice how I spend my money, Moldova. And I choose to spend it on you, because I love you. Okay?”

Moldova clung. He didn’t know how else to express that he couldn’t handle it. No one had bought him things in years, decades, even. Other than a new, Soviet Union flag to fly from his house. It made him cry too hard to think about.

“Now,” Romania said firmly, “What did you want?”

Moldova swallowed nervously. He looked for the cheapest thing he could spot, and pointed out a quarter machine.

“I know that’s not it. Come on, what is it?” Romania said, voice encouraging. He still rubbed his back.

Moldova finally said, softly enough to barely be heard, “I wanted the sock monkey.”

Romania marched down the right aisle with confidence, and grabbed the exact toy that Moldova had abandoned. He smiled, a bittersweet look, as he looked at the price tag. For a moment, Moldova was horrified, sure his brother would remark on his surely expensive tastes. But Romania just patted his back with the monkey-laden hand. “Oh, Mol... this isn’t all that expensive.”

Moldova didn’t say anything, hiding his face in his brother’s neck.

Romania carried him to the cash register, bought the monkey, and set him down. He put the monkey in his hands, saying, “This is for you, okay? I love you, and I want you to have it.”

Moldova started crying again, and hugged the monkey tightly. Then he wrapped himself around his big brother, taking in his cleanly-washed and candle-wax scent. Romania hugged him until he stopped crying, which was a while.

It was one of the best days of the beginning of democracy for Moldova, and one he would cherish forever.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked it. I drew from my own experience as a child of feeling very guilty about money being spent on me for frivolous things. I really enjoyed writing this.


End file.
